Following Orders
by Emrys1
Summary: CHAPTER 14 FINALLY REVISED!!! (In case you were interested.) Archer, Tucker, and T'Pol are kidnapped and subsequently given questionable orders by their captors. Will they follow them?
1. Default Chapter

Hey all,  
  
This is my first Star Trek fic ever, and, well, I hope you like it. That's all I wanted to say…  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Emrys  
  
Title: Following Orders  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters and situations of Star Trek Enterprise. I don't and I am not being compensated in any monetary way by writing this story. I do this to pass the time. (  
  
Part I.:  
  
He woke.  
  
Gently and without distress.  
  
He even smiled as he opened his eyes and left the fantastical dream of green gardens filled with drowsy poppies.  
  
And then he sat up and a small invasion of unease entered his body.  
  
"This isn't right," Captain Archer whispered to himself.  
  
The small sense of unease threatened to become an entire assault of anxiety.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" he asked loudly and sharply to no one in particular.  
  
***  
  
"Captain. Are you well?"  
  
Archer turned in the direction of that flat, unemotional voice and a wave of relief washed over him as he saw T'Pol sitting calmly in a corner. While he assessed his condition, he absently noted that they were in a small, doorless room consisting of plain, white walls.  
  
"Fine, T'Pol. I'm just fine." And he was. Maybe slightly disoriented, but he felt quite rested and strength flooded his limbs. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, Captain. My body is functioning quite well, " T'Pol calmly replied. "But Commander Tucker has yet to awaken." As she spoke, the Vulcan motioned to the far side of the room behind Archer.  
  
The Captain turned. "Trip?" he asked concernedly.  
  
The young engineer was sprawled on his side, and he showed no sign of awareness. Archer moved to his friend, and gently shook the other man's shoulder.  
  
"Trip! C'mon, you have to wake up now!" Archer spoke loudly, but Tucker showed no indication of wakening. Archer sat down heavily in arms-reach of Trip, and looked towards T'Pol again.  
  
"Do you have any idea what is happening?"  
  
"No Captain. I believe we were all drugged during our foray in the gardens, but by whom or why I do not know."  
  
Archer observed that his Science officer displayed no anxiety or concern, and he was almost envious of her unflappable nature even though it was somewhat abrasive given the circumstances. He silently wished that Trip would rouse himself, so that he could share some healthy emotions with another human being.  
  
"I imagine we'll find out in good time what is going on," he said offhandedly.  
  
"I share your belief, Captain. It is only logical," T'Pol replied. Feeling the uncertainty of the situation, Archer had the sudden urge to laugh. Sometimes, it seemed as if the source of the Vulcan's dry responses regarding logic was a hidden well full of humor.  
  
He allowed himself to chuckle as he looked about for a weapon of some sort. As expected, his search was fruitless.  
  
"I don't suppose you have a phase pistol or a communicator, do you, T'Pol?"  
  
"No, Captain," T'Pol said evenly.  
  
"Didn't think we'd be so lucky, but it was worth a shot," he said with a shrug. "Do you have any suggestions about what we should do next?"  
  
"I think we should wait, Captain."  
  
And they did.  
  
***  
  
They waited for someone to come and explain to them what had happened, but no one came.  
  
They waited for some sign that Enterprise knew of their whereabouts, but it did not come either.  
  
And they waited for Trip to regain consciousness. On this front their energies were rewarded approximately an hour after the Captain had awoken by a soft moan from the source of their apprehension.  
  
Captain Archer focused anxious attention on Trip as soon as he heard him begin to struggle to awareness.  
  
"Trip?" he asked. Tucker's only response was to move onto his back and moan again.  
  
"Commander! C'mon now, it's time to wake up. That's an order!" Archer said loudly as he placed a gentle hand on the struggling man's chest.  
  
"Yessir," Trip mumbled, and he squinted his eyes open. He did not otherwise move, and his eyes flickered open and closed as they tried to adjust to the lighting in the room.  
  
"Cap'n, can you dim those lights? They're awful bright," he complained. The piercing light was penetrating his skull like a knife, and it made his head ache.  
  
Jon looked at the subdued lighting in the room, and then back at T'Pol. There was hardly enough light to illuminate her form from across the relatively small room. He looked back down at Trip who had now firmly closed his eyes against the perceived brightness. Archer was even more disturbed to see that his friend seemed to be fighting for every breath he took.  
  
"T'Pol, what's wrong with him?" he asked his Science officer with the hope that she would have some idea.  
  
T'Pol walked over to them, and gazed down at the still prone man.  
  
"It might be the effects of the anaesthetic that we all received," she proposed as she felt Trip's limp wrist for a pulse.  
  
"I don't remember feeling like this when I woke up over an hour ago, do you?"  
  
"No Captain, I do not," T'Pol said as she looked directly at Archer. "It simply may be that his metabolism cannot support the drug as well as ours, but it is difficult to come to any conclusions without the proper equipment." She placed Trip's arm back down beside him with a gentleness that surprised Archer. "His pulse is somewhat fast for a human, however."  
  
"Will ya just give me a second," Trip grumbled below them. "I'm fine! I'm just trying to decide if I want to see what sort of predicament I've been dragged into this time. I swear, Cap'n, I'm going to have to seriously consider going against your orders the next time you tell me I have to go on an away mission."  
  
Archer laughed with relief at the familiar taunting tone in his friend's voice. It was true that he had persuaded Trip on yet another first contact mission with the Zyrians, a terribly diplomatic but gentle people. In fact, the last memory he had was of laughing at Trip's amazement for the stupefying beauty of the gardens that were the pride of the Zyrian planet. Archer had commented that if Trip had followed his instincts to stay onboard the Enterprise to work, he would have missed out on the sight. Trip had made a snide comment, but Jon could not remember it.  
  
"I'm okay, guys. Really," Trip insisted as he attempted to sit up. It was a struggle for him, but with some help from his two crewmates he managed to get himself upright. "See, all better," he claimed as he smiled broadly and leaned heavily against a wall.  
  
T'Pol looked skeptical as she gazeed down at the still squinting man. Yet he did seem improved, and she could see that his eyes were adjusting, albeit slowly.  
  
"Take your time, Trip," Archer said and slapped Trip gamely on his shoulder. "There's not much happening around here anyway."  
  
"Where is here? Or don't I want to know that?" Trip asked.  
  
"We're not sure," Jon replied honestly as T'Pol compared the two men's rate of breathing. The Commander's was somewhat faster than the Captain's, but she said nothing.  
  
Trip was beginning to feel a little stronger despite the pounding ache in his head and the heaviness in his chest. He coughed a small cough, and opened his eyes wider to see Jon clearly looking at him in concern.  
  
"I'm okay. Really, I'm okay," Trip insisted. "It was just rough waking up. Maybe you better tell me what's happening."  
  
The Captain opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by the swish of a door that he had not noticed before opening behind him. Standing in the doorway were three of the aliens they had unfortunately come to know as Ferengei.  
  
Trip groaned at the sight of them.  
  
"Oh man, not these guys again!" 


	2. Part II

Hi Everyone,  
  
Thanks for the great reviews…they're nice to hear!  
  
Well, it's been pointed out to me that the Enterprise crew did not come to know the name of the Ferengei in the episode "Acquisition," and so I've made a major mistake. I forgot that first contact with the Ferengei happened on TNG…oops. Well, I'm sure it won't be the last mistake I make while writing this fic…I hope you all can overlook it, and any others I make in the future. Besides, this fic is easier to write if I just call them Ferengei. Sorry about that! Here's part two, and I might actually get part three up within the next few hours…but don't hold me to that.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Emrys  
  
Disclaimer: See Part I  
  
1 Following Orders Part II  
  
  
  
Archer stood to face their three captors directly, and he felt the sudden, stately presence of T'Pol as she positioned herself behind him.  
  
"What do you want with us?" he asked the three Ferengei in a level, toneless voice. T'Pol simply stared at the three aliens in a cool way that seemed to unnerve the jumpy creatures.  
  
"Tell the female to stop looking at us in that manner, Captain Archer" growled one of the Ferengei.  
  
Despite the surprise he felt at the mention of his name, Archer calmly turned to his Science officer and for a surreal moment sympathized with his kidnappers. The cold, vicious look on her face was enough to make him want to duck for cover. I'm glad she's on our side, he thought ruefully as he turned back to the Ferengei.  
  
He cocked his head slightly and decided to test the strength of the smaller aliens' threat.  
  
"Now, why exactly should I ask her to do that?" he asked, slightly mockingly.  
  
A weapon appeared in the largest of the three's hand so quickly that Archer wondered that it hadn't been there all along.  
  
"Because if you don't, I will make sure that Leor here will kill Commander Tucker," the smallest Ferengei answerd nastily.  
  
Offended, Tucker began to fight to a standing position, but Archer made a placating gesture with his hand and the engineer's body fell back against the wall with a muted thump. Not for the first time, Archer wondered about the apparent weakness of his friend's body, but it was not the time to give that thought further consideration.  
  
From their last experience with the Ferengei, Archer knew that their greed could lead them to acts of foolishness, but he also knew that they were a species that required careful handling. They could be ruthless when trifled with.  
  
He turned to T'Pol, and gestured for her to step back. She complied by kneeling down beside Trip. She continued to monitor the weaker man's condition while her body remained tense and ready for any required action.  
  
She did not much like these Ferengei, she thought in what could almost be interpreted as a sneering way.  
  
***  
  
"Now why don't you just tell us what you want," Archer said with a hint of a warning in his voice.  
  
  
  
The three aliens seemed to ignore his demand, as they smirked and guffawed amongst themselves. They seemed terribly pleased about what Archer could only assume was their power over their hostages. He looked down at Tucker and T'Pol and could see in the faint disgust that was displayed on their faces that his two officers were willing to try to overcome the revolting creatures. "We could take them," Trip mouthed silently to his Captain.  
  
Archer had little doubt that they could physically overtake the smaller aliens, but the weapon made things a bit chancier. The light sheen of perspiration on Trip's forehead also made any direct offensive action questionable. He made a decision to manage the Ferengei as he had the last time he had been forced to deal with the greedy creatures. He would allow them their feeling of power and somehow use it to his own advantage as soon as possible.  
  
With an almost imperceptible motion of his hand, Archer instructed his other two crewmates to settle back and wait for a command from him. He then turned all of his attention on their captors in an attempt to gain as much information about them as he could.  
  
"Look at her," the one called Leor was saying. "She is just as Krem described."  
  
"And so are the humans," the leader replied. "Look how weak and helpless they are!"  
  
The third eyed the three officers with doubt. "Are you certain that they will be able to get the map for us, Gowan? They don't look very intelligent to me."  
  
Archer heard Trip begin to protest to that last comment, and inwardly smiled at his friend's pride. But that particular character trait could get bring even more trouble than they already had, and he made another placating motion with his hand. He heard Trip's almost inaudible grumble, and was worried that the younger man would not back down. But Trip regained his composure quickly, and sat back with his lips pressed tightly together as if he were trying too hard to keep his opinion to himself.  
  
And the gloating of the three aliens was getting a bit tiresome, so Archer decided to advance the situation.  
  
"Hey!" he yelled loudly. All three Ferengei turned their attention to him, and he smiled broadly. "What do you want with us?" he said in a tone that was in direct opposition to his smile.  
  
***  
  
Commander Charles Tucker appreciated order. It was the reason why he had entered Star Fleet, and it was the reason why he loved the warp engines of the Enterprise. Both ran efficiently and in an order that he found easy to comprehend.  
  
But ever since he had become commissioned on Enterprise, his need for order had been tested on a regular basis. And it wasn't that he couldn't live in an atmosphere without order; it was just that he preferred not to do so.  
  
But he had been impregnated, tacked up in the gooey body of an alien, and subjected to heatstroke all within the past few months, and had subsequently come to the conclusion that order was something of the past.  
  
Now, listening to the Ferengei threats, that conclusion was only supported tenfold.  
  
Anger forced him to fight to his feet, and the concerned stare of his Captain did nothing to calm him down.  
  
"You did what?" he asked venomously.  
  
"Trip, calm down," Jon told him.  
  
"But Cap'n!"  
  
"You getting angry won't help this situation," Archer responded emphatically. And Trip saw the wisdom of his words, but they did little to placate him.  
  
"Yes, Cap'n," he mumbled and glowered at the Ferengei as he slumped back against the wall.  
  
Archer attempted to get his own anger under control as he turned his attention back to the three aliens.  
  
"Why did you poison my engineer?" he asked as calmly as possible. 


	3. Part III

Hi again…  
  
Here's the third part to the story. It's not very long, but I wanted to get it up and out to you.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Emrys  
  
Disclaimer: See Part I.  
  
Following Orders Part III.  
  
  
  
Gorak grinned ferociously. Up to this point, his plan was working exactly as predicted. The anticipation of all the latinum he would earn after this expedition was enough to set his lobes humming. He'd be set for life, a king among his people, revered and…  
  
"Why did you poison my engineer?" Archer asked, and Gorak was brought out of his reverie as he remembered that he didn't have the map quite yet. He allowed his grin to broaden threateningly.  
  
"On the far side of the planet over which my ship is hovering there is a civilization of people who have riches enough to rival all that on the Ferengei homeworld."  
  
Noting from Gorak's explanation that they were no longer on Zyria, Archer pressed further.  
  
"From what we saw of the Zyrians, they aren't exactly as "fortunate" as you describe. And what exactly does that have to do with us?"  
  
"Fool!" Gorak hissed, and the Captain inwardly smirked. The Ferengei were beginning to underestimate his capabilities, and that was exactly the response he wanted.  
  
"You are no longer near Zyria, Captain," Gorak answered in a patronizing tone. "My ship hovers over a planet called Glorenka. The Renkan's live on the north-west hemisphere of the planet, and somewhere within their Great City's limits lies the map which shows exactly where they keep their sacred vault of riches." Gorak rubbed his hands together gleefully, and the other two Ferengei nodded and smiled expectantly at their leader.  
  
"Aha. So, again my question is what has this got to do with us?" Archer asked leadingly. He had the idea that he knew where this particular conversation was going to end, and he looked at Trip anxiously.  
  
"You are going to get me that map, or your friend Commander Tucker will die within one of your human weeks," he stated bluntly. "The poison we injected into his system is quite potent, and its effects are not pretty to watch. I have the antidote, but I won't give it to you unless I have the map in my hands."  
  
"A treasure hunt!" Trip cried incredulously. "All of this for a treasure map! Oh man, this is just perfect!"  
  
"Calm down, Trip," Archer said again. He turned toward the three extortionists. "Why can't you just go down there and get it yourself?" he asked out of genuine curiosity.  
  
Gorak shrugged. "The Renkans are a violent people, and Rule of Acquisition 36 states 'Better to be alive and rich than dead and rich.'"  
  
Realizing that this was all the explanation he was going to get, Archer rubbed a hand across his brow, and looked towards his two officers. T'Pol seemed nonplussed and ready to follow his lead, but Trip was understandably and visibly upset.  
  
"What exactly do you expect us to do?"  
  
***  
  
After the Ferengei left to gather the information that Archer would need to accomplish the task set for them, the three officers discussed their options.  
  
"We shouldn't be doing this, Cap'n!" Trip exclaimed. "I don't want to be the reason for you making deals with these screwy aliens. Besides, I think they're bluffing. I feel just fine."  
  
Archer eyed his friend critically, noted the engineer's paleness and labored breathing, and shook his head.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Trip. If we're going to get through this, you can't lie to me."  
  
Trip sighed heavily, and refused to look at his Captain directly.  
  
"The Captain is right," T'Pol stated matter-of-factly. "There is little that we can do to free ourselves if we are locked away in this room. Logic would dictate that we go to the planet's surface."  
  
"Alright, but I'm going with you," Trip conceded. "I don't want to be left here by myself with those cretins. I don't trust myself around them. Might just rip their ugly ears right off," he said with a wavering smile.  
  
Archer returned the smile, and gripped Trip's shoulder meaningfully.  
  
"Agreed. We all leave, or we don't leave at all." 


	4. Part IV

Hey everyone!  
  
Thanks for the great reviews! Here's the fourth part…maybe not much action here, but that's coming soon, I promise. I'm still setting things up here. Well, again, I might have made some mistakes…I'm not entirely sure that the Ferengei had transporters at this time, but again, I hope you can see your way to forgiving any inconsistencies.  
  
I hope you enjoy this!  
  
Emrys  
  
Disclaimer: See Part I  
  
Following Orders Part IV  
  
The three of them waited for the Ferengei to return, each quietly immersed in their own thoughts. They had been sitting silently for some time, when Trip asked a sudden question. His voice echoed in the stark room and startled both T'Pol and Archer.  
  
  
  
"How do you suppose they knew our names?"  
  
The Vulcan and human stared at Trip sharply as they considered the question and recognized its significance.  
  
"They mentioned a name," Archer began. "Krem, wasn't it?"  
  
"Yes, I believe you are correct, Captain," T'Pol concurred dryly.  
  
"That was the name of the Ferengei who stayed with me while the other three searched Enterprise for our vault," Archer explained.  
  
T'Pol's eyebrow arched dangerously.  
  
"Are you suggesting that he has mentioned us to others of his kind, Captain?"  
  
"Makes sense," Trip said with a hint of irritation lacing his voice. "Little creep probably boasted up and down the quadrant how easily he beat us."  
  
"They do seem to be the boasting type," Archer agreed.  
  
"I wish I could wring that idiot's neck! We should never have let him go! We should have…" Trip's rant ended abruptly in a fit of coughing.  
  
Archer quickly moved to his friend, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. When Trip's coughing had relented, the Captain looked at his friend pointedly.  
  
"Getting upset about the past isn't going to help any of us, Trip. Let's just concentrate on getting ourselves out of the present mess we're in," he suggested forcefully.  
  
Trip gulped in a breath of air before nodding his agreement. "Aye Cap'n," he slurred breathlessly before leaning back against the wall.  
  
"But I'd still like to get my hands on him," he added petulantly.  
  
***  
  
The shimmer of the odd beam lingered in the moment before their eyes adjusted to the new environment. Their bodies shifted as they tried to recall mass and regain balance and bearing. An instant later, they were solid forms standing in the middle of a tropical forest.  
  
"Everyone okay?" Archer asked as he took stock of his suddenly new surroundings.  
  
"Yes, Captain," T'Pol answered unemotionally. Trip looked at her with a smirk on his face and wondered how she could maintain her coolness even considering her Vulcan heredity.  
  
"Trip?" Archer asked expectantly.  
  
"Fine, Cap'n. Considering."  
  
"We better get moving," Archer decided. "We only have a few hours before dark."  
  
They began walking…east. When the Ferengei had returned to the white- walled room in which the Enterprise crew had been held hostage, they had brought with them directions to the Renkans' Great City. The three Ferengei had offered little more information other than to remind them that the Renkans were a violent people. However, the aliens had also given them a communicator with capabilities limited to a link between the planet's surface and the Ferengei ship. With much insistence by Archer, and a whispered word in Gowan's generous ear by Leor, Trip had been permitted to come along. Additionally, a handheld medical device was added to their equipment supply so that T'Pol could monitor Trip's unstable condition. Then, with little further discussion, the three officers were hurried to a transporter room where they were quickly transferred to the planet's surface. The greedy aliens had used the transporter to beam the Starfleet officers outside the city since they had no wish to see their hostages killed as soon as they materialized in a very obvious way within the city limits.  
  
They had been given no supply of food or water, and so they would have to rely upon skill and luck to replenish themselves. Trip's stomach growled loudly, and he idly speculated when it was that he had last eaten. Surely twelve hours, at least. He muffled a cough against his sleeve, and ruefully wondered if his appetite would be affected by the poison. Probably, given his luck of late. While Leor had whispered advice in Gowan's ear, the shorter Ferengei had looked directly at Trip. The engineer couldn't help but think that the little Ferengei was suggesting that having a slowly weakening officer along for the ride would be excellent motivation for Archer and T'Pol to finish the task set out before them. The thought did not bring him any hope that his luck had turned and that everything that was currently happening to him was a grim mistake.  
  
"Why me?" Trip muttered as he trudged slowly along behind the Captain and T'Pol. His head ached, and his limbs felt like lead. His breathing sounded harsh and ragged to his own ears, and he considered the intelligence of his choice to come down to the planet's surface. It had only been a day since he had been poisoned, and already weakness was overtaking him. But he could not imagine being left alone on that alien ship, not knowing whether he would live or die with only the company of the intolerably irritating Ferengei. With determination set in his jaw, Trip picked up his pace.  
  
"Why me?" he asked himself again.  
  
"Did you say something, Commander Tucker?" T'Pol asked.  
  
Trip jerked his head in her direction and realized that he had spoken out loud.  
  
"Well, I was just wondering why it was they chose to poison me. I mean, why is my luck so bad anyway?" he sighed thoughtfully before continuing. "I dunno. I mean, it's not that I would wish this on anyone else, but I suppose it would all make more sense to me if there was a reason behind it," Trip's voice clearly expressed the bitterness he felt for the situation.  
  
T'Pol eyed Tucker critically before replying.  
  
"I do not believe luck had anything to do with the Ferengei choosing to poison you," she replied thoughtfully.  
  
"What do you mean?" Trip asked curiously.  
  
"Commander, you overtook three Ferengei when they last boarded Enterprise. I believe that Krem has informed our present kidnappers that you are a dangerous man," T'Pol replied.  
  
Trip considered the Vulcan's words, and a large smile spread across his face.  
  
"Hey, yeah! You're probably right about that, Subcommander! I've probably got a legendary reputation with the Ferengei people! I betcha they describe me to the little Ferengei kiddies as someone who will come to eat them at night if they're bad and don't earn that last piece of latinum!" Trip's pace picked up at the encouraging thought, and he even chuckled to himself.  
  
Archer regarded his Science officer with interest, and discreetly moved to her side.  
  
"As I recall, you played a hand in capturing those three Ferengei as well," he whispered to her covertly.  
  
"In Commander Tucker's present state, any further aggravation, emotional or otherwise, can only affect his condition negatively," she stated calmly. "His respiration rate was increasing as he spoke of his frustration with the situation he is experiencing." She shrugged before continuing. "I simply chose to diminish his aggravation," she said and then walked past the Captain to continue their trek east.  
  
Archer stopped momentarily to stare at her retreating form and realized that T'Pol was starting to gain significant insights into human behavior.  
  
He could only hope that one day he would understand Vulcans as well. 


	5. Part V

Hi again. Just another little note to thank you for all of the positive feedback. Here's the fifth part…I've been a little under the weather, so I can only hope that this installment came out with some reasonable amount of grammatical correctness.  
  
Take it easy, all….  
  
Emrys  
  
Disclaimer: See Chapter I.  
  
Following Orders Part V:  
  
They had been walking for approximately two hours when Trip stumbled over an unseen root in his path. He caught himself before he fell, but the sound of his stagger did not go unnoticed by his crewmates. T'Pol and Archer stopped in their tracks and turned back to the weakened officer lagging behind them.  
  
"Trip?" Archer asked. Worry insinuated itself into the question, and Trip found himself irritated by its implied doubt in and fear for his abilities.  
  
"I'm fine, Cap'n," he answered harshly. Feeling a bit winded, yet hating the betrayal of his body, Trip allowed himself to lean against a bit of tree-like vegetation. "Just so many damn tree roots around here, it's a wonder any of us can stay upright."  
  
T'Pol snuck out the medical monitoring device that the Ferengi had so generously given them and took some subtle readings of Trip's bio-signs. The device was primitive, but she was able to ascertain that his heart was racing to the point of intense stress and that his temperature was slowly reaching an upper limit.  
  
"Will ya stop it with that damn thing! Stumbling over tree roots is aggravating enough without you pointing that inferior piece of technology in my direction every five minutes. I told you I'm fine, and I am! Leave me alone!" Trip yelled out to the Vulcan in a sudden fury.  
  
T'Pol was unfazed by the Commander's outburst. Instead, she looked to the Captain and gave him her analysis of the situation.  
  
"Captain, Commander Tucker is not, as he claims, fine. His heart rate is dangerously accelerated and his body temperature is approaching 39 degrees. I suggest that we stop and rest for a while."  
  
"Are you going to believe that piece of machinery or me, Cap'n? I told you, I'm fine. I just tripped over a root. Yes, my head hurts. Yes, I feel like my heart is gonna leap out of my chest like an unbroken pony, but I can go on a little further," he said emphatically.  
  
Archer silently took in Trip's outward condition, and he seriously doubted that his friend could walk much further.  
  
"Trip…" he began.  
  
"No, Cap'n. Listen. For whatever reason, those damn Ferengi put us so far outside this "Great City" or whatever you want to call it that we're probably going to be walking for a while. I've only got a week, and I don't want to stop now. There's no sense in letting me slow you down because it's not going to help the situation any."  
  
"Trip…" Archer repeated achingly.  
  
"I promise. I'll let you know if I can't keep up."  
  
Archer looked towards T'Pol, and she returned his gaze noncommittally. The Captain sighed and then nodded his head.  
  
"Alright, Trip. It's your call. But as soon as you need a rest, let me know and we'll stop, okay?"  
  
Feeling as if he had just won back a small amount of control, Trip smiled briefly. "Aye, Cap'n."  
  
***  
  
Twenty minutes of arduous walking later, Trip felt his body list dangerously to his right. As he began to make his way gracelessly towards the ground, he absently speculated that balance was a thing of the past. With a whispered curse, he fell to the soft forest floor and was grateful when his head didn't hit a tree root. His vision blurred, then spun, and he closed his eyes as he fought down the nausea that suddenly assaulted him.  
  
He opened his eyes briefly to see the wavering image of Jonathan and swallowed back the bile that had risen up his throat.  
  
"Think I need…a rest now…Cap'n," he stammered out.  
  
The last thing he knew before unconsciousness took him was the wordless sound Archer made to express his frustration and dismay.  
  
***  
  
When he next opened his eyes, the blurry image of flame surrounded by a close circle of darkness was the first thing he perceived. A hand placed itself close to his mouth, and he felt a trickle of water enter his slightly parted and cracked lips. He drank greedily and ignored the clenching of his stomach in favor of the relief he felt inside his parched mouth and throat.  
  
"Not too much," a deep, yet feminine voice spoke out. "You will make yourself sick."  
  
"T'Pol," Trip said thickly. "Where are we?"  
  
"As requested, we're taking a rest," Archer's voice boomed from somewhere close by. Trip closed his eyes as the sound of it played havoc with his headache.  
  
"It's dark," the sick man said stupidly.  
  
Archer only nodded in response. "Are you hungry, Trip? There's food?" he then offered.  
  
Trip wrinkled his nose as the scent of cooked flesh reached him.  
  
"What is it?" he asked warily.  
  
"Not sure actually. But, if you used your imagination a bit, it looked sort of like a rabbit. Anyway, it tastes like chicken. Have a try." Jonathan moved over to the fire to cut a piece of meat.  
  
"Ahh, I think I'll pass on the alien bunny meat, Cap'n," Trip said and then struggled to sit up.  
  
"Let me help you, Commander," T'Pol said brusquely, and with the surprising gentleness she had demonstrated previously, she supported Trip to a sitting position.  
  
"Thanks," he mumbled gratefully, and then took a closer look around. "I take it we haven't found the city yet," he said bitterly.  
  
"No, Trip. Afraid we haven't," Archer answered.  
  
"Aha. Didn't think so. Damn Ferengi. Can't even transport us to decent coordinates. How hard is that to do, anyway," Trip breathed as his eyes began to cloud over again.  
  
"Trip! Trip! Can you still hear me?" Jonathan asked desperately as T'Pol took out the medical monitor and took additional readings. Her clenched jaw did nothing to ease his worry.  
  
"I'm dyin' ain't I, Jon?" Trip asked as his eyes began to droop closed. He leaned heavily against T'Pol's supporting arms, and she carefully settled him back down.  
  
"No, Trip! Do you hear me? We're gonna get through this. Just rest for now, and things will be better in the morning," Jonathan said encouragingly.  
  
The engineer just muttered something unintelligible before lapsing back into unconsciousness.  
  
"How is he?" Archer anxiously asked his Science officer.  
  
The tightness in the Vulcan's jaw only intensified as she gave her report of the engineer's condition.  
  
"I believe the poison that the Ferengi gave him is accelerating in its effect," she stated flatly. "It seems that they overestimated the time it would take to kill him. The Commander will be unable to continue walking from this point on since any further exertion on his part will overtax his heart."  
  
"You mean that he could have a heart attack?"  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
Archer rubbed his head as he considered the bleakness of their situation. Gently, he reached out to his friend, and took some small comfort from the steady yet rapid movement of Trip's chest as the man breathed heavily beneath his hand.  
  
"Captain, may I make a suggestion?" T'Pol's voice broke the brief episode of quiet.  
  
"Yes, Subcommander," Archer said as he looked to her hopefully.  
  
"Allow me to go ahead on my own while you stay here and see to the Commander's needs. At the very least, I will be able to determine how far the city is from our current position. Perhaps I will even be able to do some reconnaissance to establish just how adversarial the Renkan's truly are."  
  
Archer thought over T'Pol's words, but he found himself hesitating despite the soundness of her suggestion. One of his officers was already at risk, and he consequently balked at the thought of putting the other in a dangerous situation.  
  
"It's a good idea," he conceded, "but I'll go ahead while you stay here with Trip."  
  
T'Pol blinked coldly before replying.  
  
"Your decision is illogical, Captain," she said bluntly. She quickly added to her assessment before Archer could make further protest. "You are a close friend of the Commander's, correct?"  
  
Unsure of where she was taking the conversation, Archer nodded. "Yes, you know that T'Pol. It isn't news to anyone."  
  
She ignored what she perceived was irritation in his tone.  
  
"Then it is only logical that you should stay with Commander Tucker," she said evenly. "Your presence will bring him comfort that mine will be unable to give. He is ill, and will be better aided by your support than by mine."  
  
Archer stared at her blankly while his mind scrambled to find some way around her logic; there was simply no way that he could feel comfortable with putting her at risk. But then he looked down at the pained face of his unconscious friend, and knew that she was right. He might not be happy with the idea of the Vulcan out alone on an alien planet, but there was no better alternative.  
  
"Alright," he conceded, "but wait until morning. It will be safer traveling for you, and you'll be able to eat and rest."  
  
She nodded to her superior and sat down next to the fire.  
  
"Yes, Captain." 


	6. Part VI

Hello Everyone….  
  
Again, I want to thank you all for your wonderful feedback…it keeps me writing. Special thanks to you, Amanda!  
  
Yes, I know…this installment has taken a bit longer than the others. In the past week, I have become the proud mother of a six-week old, holy terror of a kitten, and she has unsettled the household (i.e., myself and the other two cats). She is hard to keep up with and gets into everything…in fact, yesterday her curiosity landed her in the toilet. So, it has been difficult writing this chapter and running around the apartment after her. Unfortunately, I don't see her slowing down anytime soon.  
  
But I hope you enjoy this installment. Warning…a little more angst than in the other five chapters.  
  
Take care, all…  
  
Emrys  
  
Disclaimer: See first installment.  
  
1 Following Orders Part VI  
  
  
  
At mid-day, Trip began to show signs of consciousness, and Archer was by his side instantly. After several moments of struggling, the engineer managed to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but after blinking a number of times, he was able to recognize his friend.  
  
"Jon," he rasped. It took him another moment before he realized that the look of concern on his Captain's face was directed at him. Disorientation washed over him, and he shook his head in an effort to clear it of the confusion. The movement made him dizzy, and he closed his eyes again. "Wha…what's goin' on?" he managed to ask.  
  
"Take it easy, Trip," Jonathan said soothingly. "Give yourself a minute. You're sick."  
  
"That part…I got," Trip replied between painful breaths. "Could ya help…me up? This ain't…particularly…comfortable."  
  
Archer nodded in response, and helped the sick man into a sitting position. He grimly noted that Trip was too weak to remain upright under his own power, and gently positioned the younger man against a boulder that was close to the fire. Despite Jon's careful movements; however, Trip could not hold back a grunt as pain drummed throughout his muscles. His breathing quickened in response to the throbbing, and he began to cough in a way that frightened Archer.  
  
"Trip?" Archer asked worriedly and hoped for some response.  
  
But Trip did not have the breath to answer, and he sat with his hands clutching his chest desperately as he tried to gain control over his breathing.  
  
"Easy, easy, easy," Archer murmured as he also put a soothing hand to the other man's chest. Trip's coughing slowly lessened to a deep gasping, and Archer pulled out the Ferengi medical device to monitor the engineer's heart rate. What the device reported did nothing to diminish his fear.  
  
"Trip, listen to me," he said hurriedly. "You have to calm yourself down a little. Your heart rate is way too high, so I want you to slow your breathing. Just calm down a little, and you'll be all right." Jon continued to mutter quiet, yet reassuring instructions to the Commander, and Trip, either consciously or unconsciously, managed to control his breathing a bit. Archer sat back only when Trip was sitting with his eyes half-closed and breathing much more efficiently.  
  
"I remember now, Captain," Trip mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.  
  
"What's that, Trip?" Archer replied.  
  
"Big-eared aliens, treasure maps, and rabbits that taste like chicken."  
  
Archer could not hold back a chuckle as he wondered about Trip's ability to be light-hearted even under these dire circumstances.  
  
After a while, Trip eyed the camp carefully without moving his head and was relieved when he could do so without pain or dizziness. Something seemed different from the last time he was conscious, but it took him a minute to figure out what the difference was.  
  
"Where's T'Pol?" he asked once he identified the wrongness that he had sensed.  
  
"She's scouting ahead. She should be back by nightfall," Archer answered simply.  
  
"She's out there all alone?! She shouldn't be out there on her own, Cap'n," Trip took a moment to take a deep breath, and in that moment another realization hit him. "She's out there because of me, ain't she? If I hadn't held you guys up, she wouldn't be out there on her own now, would she? Damn it! I'm so selfish! I should have stayed up there with those greedy, little bastards instead of insisting on coming to the planet with you! I…"  
  
"Trip, calm down now! That's an order!" Archer commanded sharply as he saw the engineer's respiration rate increase.  
  
"But Cap'n…"Trip insisted.  
  
"I said that was an order, Commander!" Archer replied strongly.  
  
Trip's Starfleet training took over and he quieted. "Yes, Captain," he answered respectfully.  
  
"She'll be okay, Trip," Archer said after a while and in an effort to erase the dismay that he knew his younger officer still felt. "Of all the members of my crew, I'm least worried about T'Pol being on her own on an alien planet. She can take care of herself."  
  
Trip nodded, and the Captain saw that he had placated the Commander enough so that the sick man could close his eyes and even drowse a bit. Relieved that Trip's condition seemed to be relatively stable, Archer sat back on his heels and tended the fire.  
  
He found himself thinking about T'Pol, and hoped that his assurances about the Vulcan's welfare were true.  
  
***  
  
Jonathan was still staring into the fire and contemplating their situation when Trip roused himself again.  
  
"What are you gonna do when we find the Renkans?" the engineer asked in a breathless whisper.  
  
"You always ask the good questions, Trip," Jonathan replied. He took a deep breath before answering. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm expecting that we'll be in a better position to make some sort of plan after T'Pol gets a look at what we're up against. Quite frankly, I'm hoping that we can get out of this without even disturbing the Renkans."  
  
"What do you mean, Cap'n?"  
  
Archer had been contemplating approaching Trip with an engineering puzzle since the engineer had last regained consciousness. He knew that the man was terribly ill and too weak to work effectively, but he also understood his friend well enough to know that he felt a great deal of guilt for not being able to help them out of the situation. At best, Archer's idea would bring Enterprise to them; at worst, it would distract Trip and return a sense of control to him.  
  
"Well, Trip," he began. "I'm not sure how far away we are from Enterprise, but I thought it might be worth a shot trying to contact them."  
  
Trip's eyes narrowed in response, and his thoughtful expression encouraged Jonathan to continue.  
  
"I was wondering if you felt up to playing around with the communicator that Gorak gave us," Archer said. "I was hoping that you could adjust it so that we could hail someone other than our big-eared friends. Maybe we could contact Enterprise."  
  
Trip thought about the pounding aches that continuously assailed his weakened body, and the dizziness and resulting nausea that assaulted him episodically. He contemplated the fact that he had no tools, and that he could barely move his hands and arms. But then he quickly pushed those thoughts aside as he began to envision the possible internal structures of both the communicator and the medical device and an idea began to blossom in his head. It was possible…. It might work….  
  
"I'll need that medical device as well, Cap'n," he said hurriedly. "And can you bash both of them up against a rock or something? Not so hard that you damage the internal components, but I need the covers off of 'em."  
  
Archer smiled and felt a sense of accomplishment that was akin to the one he experienced the last time he was fishing and pulled an especially large trout out of the river nearby his Earth home. Trip had taken the bait and was running with it.  
  
***  
  
By nightfall, Trip was still fighting with numerous circuits and complex alien components, but he was showing no signs of defeat. Archer watched the engineer's progress with a mixture of humor and awe. How Trip was managing to make progress given all of the disadvantages in front of him was beyond Jon's comprehension. But he was also relieved to see that the commander's breathing had stabilized further, and a visage of calm and contentment had replaced the panic and frustration that had been on Trip's face before he had set forth to solve the tricky engineering brainteaser.  
  
And so, when T'Pol thankfully returned to them, she raised an eyebrow at the unexpected scene before her. She had rushed back to the camp with the intent of aiding the Commander's rapidly ailing body and was not prepared to see him calmly working. In the instant before her crewmembers saw her, she realized that had she been anything but Vulcan she would feel surprise at the situation. As it was, she could be nothing less than impressed with Captain Archer's abilities.  
  
But all of these thoughts were hidden away within the depths of her Vulcan mind, and none of them could be inferred in the one level word that she uttered.  
  
"Captain."  
  
Archer stood instantly, and Tucker glanced up from his work.  
  
"T'Pol!" Archer shouted with relief.  
  
"Captain," T'Pol repeated by way of recognition. Her even tone continued as she reported her findings in a four-word summary.  
  
"We have a problem." 


	7. Following Orders Part VII

Note: For those of you who have read this installment already (you know who you are), I made some minor changes…. I thought I might as well since I couldn't post it at fanfiction.net for a week!  
  
Hey Everyone!  
  
I'm back!!! Sorry, real life has been getting in the way, and I haven't been able to update this for a few of weeks. Just in case I drop off the face of the Internet for weeks on end again, you will be relieved to know that I have every intention of finishing this fic. The whole thing is planned and practically scripted up in my little ole noggin', so have no fear! It will get done!  
  
Thanks for all of the great feedback…I always get such a warm and fuzzy feeling hearing good things about something that I've put a decent amount of effort into!  
  
And, just in case you're interested, the kitten hasn't fallen into the toilet again!  
  
Okay, well here comes Part Seven. Please forgive any errors, since I'm sure there will be some…me being human and all. (  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Emrys  
  
P.S. I have to say this…poor Trip! I'm so mean to him! Bad Emrys! Bad, bad Emrys!  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: See previous installments.  
  
1 Following Orders Part VII  
  
Archer cringed inwardly at the blunt words of his second-in-command and wondered where T'Pol's unexpected sensitivity towards humans had taken off to. Eyeing Trip nervously he was relieved to see that the Commander was too wrapped up in the communications problem he was attempting to solve to even notice T'Pol's return.  
  
With a relieved sigh, Archer turned back to the Vulcan and scowled at her.  
  
"Keep your voice down!" he commanded in a rough whisper. "I don't want him to hear about any problems just yet." He directed T'Pol to a position further away from Trip, but not so far that he was out of eyes' reach.  
  
"What exactly is the problem?" he asked to continue the debriefing of his officer.  
  
"It appears that our captors were mistaken in their estimation of the Renkans, Captain," T'Pol began.  
  
"What do you mean?" Archer, in his anxiety, could not help but think that the Vulcan's incomplete response was a way for her to play on his human emotions. He absently noted that after all these months with T'Pol acting as his Second-In-Command, he still had managed to retain some human prejudice towards the Vulcan. He made a mental note to analyze his lingering prejudices after they got themselves out of the current mess.  
  
"The Renkan city does not meet the definition of "great" by any means; in fact it can barely be called a city. Additionally, the Renkans themselves do not appear to be rich in any monetary sense, and I have observed them to be a relatively primitive society of humanoid hunter-gatherers."  
  
T'Pol's flat statements hit Archer like a blow to his stomach, and he felt the need to sit down. He resisted the urge, yet staggered under the implications of the report. Again he looked towards Trip but with real fear now in his eyes. It was inconceivable that Trip would die, inconceivable that he would lose his best friend.  
  
Harshly, he pushed his frightened thoughts to the back of his mind and returned his gaze to T'Pol.  
  
"Are you sure that these people were Renkans? Are you absolutely certain?"  
  
In response to the sharply asked question, T'Pol cocked her eyebrow to express that she was still unused to having her opinions doubted. But vaguely she recognized that the Captain's concerns originated not from any doubt in her abilities, but from some human emotion of his own. She chose to ignore the insult and simply answered his question.  
  
"Although I am not as practiced in alien languages as Ensign Sato is, I was able to ascertain from conversations I overheard that the village was indeed that of the Renkans, Captain. Yes, I am certain."  
  
Briefly she turned to place her cool gaze on Trip, and Archer had a moment to wonder what she was thinking. But he had no time to make any conclusions regarding her impenetrable mind before she turned back to him.  
  
"Captain, I suggest that we proceed to the village despite my observations. The chances of gaining any answers to our dilemma should improve once we make contact with the Renkans. Being the only humanoids that we have encountered on this planet, there is a small chance that they may be able to aid us," she said quietly.  
  
Although the chances of returning to safety had suddenly plummeted even if they were to manage making contact with the Renkans, Archer had been about to make the same suggestion. It was rare that he agreed so easily with his First Officer, and he allowed himself a moment to feel surprised.  
  
"Agreed," he said and smiled slightly when T'Pol's eyebrow arched even further. He realized that she also was experiencing surprise at their agreement inasmuch as Vulcan's felt surprise.  
  
"We'll have to carry Trip somehow, since he's not able to walk anymore," he said in an attempt to begin planning.  
  
"I suggest a stretcher, Captain."  
  
"I know, I thought of that," Archer answered. "But the only vines around here that are able to keep a stretcher in one piece are so tough they make that alien rabbit skin look like melted butter."  
  
T'Pol inwardly reflected on the memory of trying to skin the "rabbit" with a stick and brute force, and nodded in agreement.  
  
"We'll carry him together," she stated. "When should we proceed?"  
  
"As soon as possible. I don't know how much time…."  
  
He was interrupted by a sharp cry from Trip.  
  
***  
  
While the Captain and T'Pol were planning their next move, Trip was continuing to make progress in increasing their chances of making contact with Enterprise. Early on in his pursuit, he had discovered that the limitations of the equipment did not allow for any direct contact, yet he could create a beacon directed at one of the subspace channels commonly used by Enterprise. It was a long shot given that he had no idea if Enterprise was one light-year away or one hundred, but a primitive S.O.S. call was better than nothing.  
  
He looked ruefully at the scattered circuits and hoped that their greedy little friends orbiting around the planet didn't decide to make contact with them anytime soon. He didn't want those bastards becoming antsy and coming down to check on them when they couldn't make contact.  
  
Although he had been making progress, it was slow going for him. He tried to tell himself that he was limited only in lack of tools and proper equipment, but his deteriorating body continued to put in its own two cents. The ache in his head was becoming unbearable as he felt each pulse of blood pump heavily and rapidly through it. And although the medical recorder could no longer tell him, he was also certain that his fever had spiked dangerously. Neither symptom helped his nausea, and he had to constantly hold down his gorge to keep from vomiting.  
  
And yet he had still managed to make progress. He had remained calm in the face of his decline and had been able to practically complete the job. He just needed to create a few more new circuits out of wire and components from the medical recorder, and the job would be completed. He just needed a few more minutes before his body could have its way.  
  
But then all the muscles in his right arm and hand unexpectedly clenched furiously, and he dropped the equipment he was holding as he cried out in alarm and pain. As the pain intensified, he slumped over his arm in an almost instinctual attempt to ease and protect it.  
  
By the time Archer and T'Pol reached the agonized engineer, the pain was so intense that he was barely able to hold onto consciousness. But he was aware enough to recognize with relief that T'Pol had returned and he greeted her with a stilted nod.  
  
"Commander," T'Pol said by way of acknowledgement.  
  
Meanwhile, Archer grasped Trip's shoulder to lend support to his friend and felt the muscles there bunch into a tight ball. He was so surprised at the suddenness of the muscle contraction that he pulled his hand away and took a half step back.  
  
"Trip?" he asked worried and unsure what to do.  
  
"Damn it, I was…almost done," Trip whispered between clenched teeth. "I just…needed a…little more time."  
  
T'Pol moved and bent down over the mechanism that Trip had been working on to study it critically. She had the general experience of most Vulcan and Starfleet officers in the field of subspace communication and recognized immediately that the Commander's words were truth. The remainder of the work was uncomplicated and, although it would take her more time than the few minutes Trip required, the work would be relatively easy for her to accomplish.  
  
"Commander, I believe that I can finish the work on the communicator. You should rest," she announced.  
  
Archer, now back at Trip's side, was grateful for T'Pol's words. The thought of failure would only add to the medical problems facing Trip and would wound his terrific Southern pride further.  
  
"Good job, Trip," he said and hoped that the sick man could hear him. "Rest now, and let us help you."  
  
But Trip was practically unconscious from the intense muscular pain that spanned the distance between the upper right quadrant of his back and right hand and could not reply other than to mouth incoherent words. Slowly Archer rubbed the tightened muscles on his friend's shoulder in an attempt to soothe them, but the muscles refused to relax even after Trip sank all the way into unconsciousness a few minutes later. Afterwards, Archer sat heavily on the ground and put his head in his hands. He fought back the hopelessness he felt, and despite Trip's pale face and seemingly lifeless body, managed to push it completely out of mind.  
  
"How long will it take you to finish the communicator?" he asked T'Pol roughly.  
  
In spite of her own Vulcan emotional ambiguity, T'Pol recognized that the Captain was under incredible emotional strain. Having something of an idea of the intensity with which humans responded to stressful situations, she was considerably impressed by Archer's ability to maintain focus on their objective.  
  
"Not more than three hours," she answered simply and with nothing of the newfound respect coloring her tone.  
  
Archer looked down at Trip and wondered how much more the commander's body could withstand and if any new side effects to the alien poison would arise within three hours. He practically itched with the desire to do something instead of waiting three hours helplessly while T'Pol finished working. But he also saw that having a working communicator was the best chance they had to getting Trip to safety.  
  
"Alright, we'll wait here until you finish. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help," he said even though he knew that more than one person working on such delicate equipment would be awkward and time consuming.  
  
"Yes, Captain," T'Pol said and bent her head to the work. 


	8. Part VIII

Hi everyone..  
  
Something of note.I'm not going to be too concerned with how the Ferengi understand English (or whatever language Starfleet officers/Vulcans use together). My memory may be faulty, but I don't recall there being a big explanation about why the four Ferengi in "Acquistion" were able to understand the crewmembers, so I don't think I should have to either. Let me know if I'm wrong, though.  
  
Okay, that's it.as usual I hope you can forgive any minor mistakes and that you will point out the major ones!  
  
Enjoy! Emrys  
  
Disclaimer: See Following Orders Part I  
  
Following Orders Part VIII (I think):  
  
The progress was slow going at best. Trip, still unconscious after the hours it took to complete the beacon for Enterprise, hung limply between Archer and T'Pol, his legs dragging uselessly over each jutting tree root and exposed rock. T'Pol had attempted to ease the muscle contractions in the sick man's arm and back by using a few Vulcan massage techniques, but the muscles refused to relax. Archer could barely keep the stiffened arm over his shoulder, a circumstance that further interfered in the threesome's ability to travel.  
  
An hour after continuing their journey, Trip was jarred into consciousness after his right foot became caught in a tangle of tenacious weeds, and T'Pol tripped at the unexpected change in the engineer's momentum. His return to awareness was unwelcome, and as he tried to gain his bearings he bemusedly wished for the relief that only seemed to come now from unconsciousness.  
  
He weakly lifted his head and recognized by the unsteadiness of the horizon and the sudden lurching of his stomach that he was being moved. He groaned softly and allowed his head to fall back down between his shoulders.  
  
"Trip?" he heard Jon's voice somewhere above his head, but he could barely respond to it.  
  
"Stop," he muttered.  
  
"What?" Archer asked in confusion.  
  
"Can we.stop for a.a minute?" he stammered out between clenched teeth and with a considerable amount of urgency.  
  
Archer nodded to T'Pol and together they slowly lowered Trip's weakened body to the ground until he lay on his back. T'Pol placed a cool hand on Trip's sweat-soaked forehead, and Jon saw her lips tighten in response to the waves of heat she felt emanating from the engineer's face. Trip exhibited a frailty that Archer had never seen in his friend before and which was frightening to witness.  
  
He sat down heavily next to Tucker and kept a close eye on him. Trip appeared to be struggling against something, and Jon was about to ask him what was wrong when the engineer began to gag and retch. Quickly, Archer pushed Trip onto his side in order to keep the helpless man from aspirating on the bile and liquid that he violently threw up.  
  
When it was over, Jon returned Trip onto his back, and quietly asked T'Pol to find some water.  
  
"This is.humiliatin'," Trip gasped out weakly, and Jonathan could not hold back a short chuckle over the younger man's preoccupation with his pride. Gently, he wiped away the few involuntary tears that spread from Trip's eyes and gave him a supportive smile.  
  
"I promise that when we get back to Enterprise I won't say a word to the rest of the crew. And I'll order T'Pol into silence if it makes you feel better."  
  
Trip was blearily thankful, but somehow suspected that he would never hear the end of this particular episode in their friendship. That was provided that he survived his current condition long enough to make it back to the ship.  
  
"Where are we?" he asked as he pushed aside the negative thoughts.  
  
"Not far from the Renkan city," Archer replied all the while feeling slightly guilty at his omission of T'Pol's previous discoveries.  
  
"The beacon?"  
  
"It is completed and operating efficiently," T'Pol answered as she returned with a small, hollow tree log filled with water. She allowed Trip a short drink, and then gently began wiping down his face with her hands.  
  
"We hid the device under some vegetation. Hopefully it'll keep until Enterprise can locate us," Archer explained further.  
  
Trip closed his eyes in response and tried to ignore all of the physical responses that he was experiencing from the poison. Instead he attempted to concentrate solely on the feeling of T'Pol's hands as she continued to cool his face. The sensation was blessed relief, and he was almost soothed into a blissful and genuine sleep.  
  
But the Captain's voice interrupted his reprieve, and as he opened his eyes the pain returned to assail him.  
  
"Trip, I'm sorry, but we have to get to the Renkan city quickly. Do you think you'll be able to manage?"  
  
Trip considered saying no. He wanted the oblivion of sleep. He wanted the pain to end. He just wanted to give up.  
  
But he could not disappoint his captain, his friend. And so he weakly raised his left arm, and held back the cries of pain as they lifted him upright and began walking again.  
  
****  
  
"We'll keep contact with the Renkans as limited as possible," Archer said to T'Pol as they walked. "I don't want this to get any more complicated than it has to be."  
  
T'Pol nodded her head in agreement, and her respect for the Starfleet Captain heightened again. They would be contending with a pre-warp society, and she appreciated the wisdom in remaining as distant and discrete as possible.  
  
Their progress was now made easier by Trip's consciousness, as well as his feeble attempts to keep his legs from tangling over every obstacle in their path. But they had been walking in excess of an hour, and each of them was tiring. She gritted her teeth and lifted the Commander's arm higher in her grip.  
  
Suddenly she perceived a small rustle of vegetation off the path behind them, and she hesitated slightly in her step. Archer noticed her break in pace and turned a questioning gaze towards her.  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
Trip, whose head had been lolling between his shoulders again, managed a quick glance up at the Vulcan and also recognized the tension in the line of her jaw as an indication that something was not quite in order.  
  
"Oh, don't.tell me," he muttered cynically. "Something else.is wrong."  
  
"Trip, shhh," the Captain commanded quickly. "What is it?" he again asked the Subcommander.  
  
"I believe that we are being followed, Captain," T'Pol replied calmly.  
  
"Great. Oh, just.great," Trip mumbled again.  
  
"Trip, quiet. We don't know what it is. It could be."  
  
But the Captain was interrupted by the abrupt cries of several heavily camouflaged humanoid figures as they rushed from the vegetation and aimed primitive yet dangerous weapons at the three officers.  
  
"So much for discretion," Archer said under his breath as he tried to make observations of the hard-to-see aliens. T'Pol looked at him sharply, but made no further comment.  
  
The humanoids separated the three of them, and Trip fell heavily to the ground without the support of the others' arms. He groaned loudly, and then lay still. Archer moved towards his officer, but was blocked by a particularly tall alien who shouted something at him in an unintelligible language. Furious, Archer made another move past the hulking figure, but this time was pushed away and forced to walk forward on the path. Ahead, he saw T'Pol being directed the same way, but he was unable to catch another glimpse of Trip. Helpless, he could only hope that they were all being lead to the same location.  
  
As he walked, Archer watched the humanoids. Based on how close they were to the village, he supposed that these aliens actually were Renkans. Each was much taller than any human or Vulcan that he had ever seen, but he could discern little more of their physical attributes due to the camouflage. It wasn't until they were paraded through the middle of the hut-filled village that Archer realized that the camouflage was actually part of the Renkan anatomy and not added on by other means. Each Renkan appeared to have the ability to blend effortlessly into their environment much as many species of Earth chameleon could. The effect was not so complete that the figures were invisible to the human eye, but it was quite impressive nonetheless. As figures moved from area to area, their bodies shifted quickly from one series of colors to another depending on their surroundings. Despite the uncertainty of his situation, Archer could not help but be amazed.  
  
He was so preoccupied by the stunning characteristic that he did not realize at first that they had stopped in front of one of the larger huts. He looked up at the Renkan who earlier had blocked him from Trip, and the taller humanoid pushed him into the hut along with T'Pol. It was dark inside, with only a small torch in a far corner lighting the large, single room.  
  
Before he could make any further observations, Archer was distracted when another Renkan entered the hut with Trip over his shoulder. The Renkan roughly dropped Trip to the floor, and abruptly left without saying a word. But before either Archer or T'Pol could move to the engineer's side, another figure inside the hut moved from a dark corner into their field of view.  
  
Archer's astonishment was so strong that his breath practically caught in his throat.  
  
"Krem!" he shouted at the small, large-eared alien in front of him.  
  
*** Author's note: For those of you who haven't seen "Acquisition," Krem is the downtrodden little Ferengi that supervised Archer throughout the episode. 


	9. Following Orders Part IX

Hi everybody..  
  
Long time, no see, right? Sorry about the delay. But I've written a small Part IX and, well, here it is for your reading enjoyment. I'm going to try to update this more regularly again, but don't hold me to that! I have to take these next few sections slow, so be prepared for some short installments. If I mess up the story here, I'll end up writing myself in a corner, and I don't want to do that. So I have to think out these next chapters a bit.  
  
Anyway, here's part IX..not much Trip angst here, but maybe I'll devote the next chapter to more angst if y'all want it..  
  
Take care,  
  
Emrys  
  
Following Orders Part IX  
  
Disclaimer: see Part I  
  
  
  
"What are you doing here?" Archer asked dangerously. Sudden fury overwhelmed him as he irrationally and uncontrollably found himself blaming Krem for every wrong turn that had occurred since Trip, T'Pol and he had been kidnapped.  
  
Krem took a calm moment to regard the starship captain and the rag-tagged crew that was with him before replying. In that short time, Jonathan was able to note that something had changed about the little alien since they had had their unwanted and unhappy first meeting on Enterprise. Krem looked somehow calmer, and more assured of himself. Archer momentarily wondered at the change, but his anger was too strong to occupy excessive thought to the alien's seeming metamorphosis.  
  
Krem took a breath and then bowed his head slightly.  
  
"Captain, I'm sorry to see you here," he said in a tone that conveyed true apology.  
  
"That makes two of us," Archer retorted. "Why don't you explain to me what exactly is going on."  
  
"I'm not sure myself," Krem replied. "Perhaps if you explain to me first how exactly you came to be here, I can better answer your question."  
  
Archer pushed away the part of himself that was proudly insisting that Krem answer the questions instead of the other way around. Being pushy would not help their situation, and he sensed no guile from the alien. But he remained wary nonetheless as he told Krem their story.  
  
When he retold how Trip had been poisoned, the little alien rushed to the side of the fallen officer. He placed a steady palm on Trip's burning forehead and pursed his lips in an unexpected manner. Carefully, he probed the muscles of Trip's arms, and Trip moaned painfully in response. Archer saw concern and guilt enter Krem's eyes, and he almost felt sorry for the little guy. Baffled, the captain remained silent as the alien continued his examination.  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain," he responded. "This is a poison commonly used by my people for coercion, and I do not have an antidote here in my possession. The best that I can offer is a tonic which will prolong his life functions for a day or two more."  
  
Archer clenched his jaw, and glanced towards T'Pol. She looked at him impassively, but he noticed her own tightened jaw.  
  
Not knowing how else to respond, Jonathan nodded in what felt like a futile gesture. Krem called out in a guttural tone, and one of the Renkans appeared at the doorway. Krem continued to talk in the strange language, and Archer supposed that he was discussing ingredients for Trip's tonic with the other tall alien.  
  
When he was done, Krem returned his gaze to Archer and asked him to continue the story. Archer retold the tale as quickly as possible, and hen he was finished, the little alien sighed deeply and his look of sorrow deepened.  
  
"This is all my fault, Captain, and I will do everything in my power to rectify the situation. But you must realize just how grim your problem is."  
  
Confused, Archer shook his head. "All I know is that my friend is dying," he stated simply.  
  
Krem nodded. "That is true, Captain. Without the tonic, he will be dead within the next few hours. As it is, he has at most two days to live if we do not acquire the antidote soon."  
  
Archer felt cold fear trail down his spine, and he raked a hand through his hair. The motion fully conveyed his frustration and panic of the situation.  
  
Krem calmly patted the captain's arm, and motioned him to sit on what appeared to be a collection of woven mats in the corner of the room. Archer gratefully sat and was surprised at the sudden tiredness that coursed through him.  
  
"Captain, you may have noticed that I am not typical of my people," Krem said with a slight smile coloring his face.  
  
Archer nodded in response but was silent as he wondered where this conversation would take them.  
  
"Well, the entire existence of my people centers around acquisition. It is the only action that makes our lives worth living, and our material possessions determine our social status and success," Krem explained. He then chuckled quietly at some private joke, and looked pointedly at Archer. "I was never very good at acquiring things. I just never had the taste for it. In fact, I was the shame of my family. You see, I've never been forceful or deceptive, and these qualities are necessary for acquisition.  
  
"When you gave me control of that ship, you gave me the power to implement a plan that I had been dreaming of for most of my life. Shortly after I left your ship, I dropped my compatriots off at the nearest star station, and then explored this area of space. I discovered this planet and realized that the Renkans' quiet existence suited my quiet personality. So, I made the decision to spend the rest of my life here, but first I had to convince my family that I was actively acquiring great material goods, so that they would not hunt me down to badger me out of my newfound life of non-acquisition."  
  
Archer suddenly saw where this story was leading them. "You lied to them," he said.  
  
"Yes, that's correct, Captain. I told my family that I had found a wealthy civilization, and that I planned to single-handedly acquire control of its fortune. My relatives were a bit dubious of my capabilities at first, but they were easily swayed after I showed them fake maps and battle plans. Besides, they were already somewhat convinced of my prowess after I told my story of how I swindled a star-ship captain out of goods and a small spacecraft all on my own."  
  
Archer groaned as his mind finished the story for him.  
  
"But you also convinced them that the Renkans were dangerous people, and by doing so you further deterred any family members from seeking you out," he said grimly. "But after some time passed and no one heard of you, they became curious and greedy for the wealth you mentioned. So they kidnapped us to do a job that they found too dangerous for themselves."  
  
"I'm afraid so, Captain," Krem responded. "Gowan, Arkin, and Leor are my most miserly first cousins." 


	10. Part X

Alright, alright! Here's the angsty chapter!!! Yes, it's short, but it's all I could do for now. I probably should have put this part and the last together, but this worked out well for me because I'm now on a roll! I think I'll be able to update again soon! Yea!!!  
  
Anyway, feel free to tell me what you think.and let me know if I've made any mistakes in the last couple of parts, OK?  
  
Well, enjoy part X.  
  
Emrys  
  
Following Orders Part X  
  
Disclaimer: See first installment.  
  
Archer closed his eyes wearily after confirming the news of Krem's cousins and leaned against the wall of the hut. After a moment, he slowly reopened his eyes and glanced at Trip who was being tended by T'Pol. The engineer was curled onto his side in obvious discomfort, and the sight of his twisted body brought into focus the fear that Archer had been trying to ignore.  
  
Noting the human's concern, Krem shuffled to the Commander's side again. As he did so, the Renkan with whom he had conferred earlier entered carrying a bowl filled with a viscous liquid. Krem nodded his thanks to the hard-to-see alien and then motioned Archer over to him. Hampered by fatigue, Jon stood slowly and moved to crouch by his friend.  
  
T'Pol, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to ease the painfully clenched muscles of Tucker's back with another Vulcan massage technique, wordlessly stepped away from the Commander when Krem started moving his hands over the human's contorted body. She observed the alien carefully and was prepared to intercede if she sensed any harmful intent towards her shipmate.  
  
"In my people, the poison primarily attacks the skeletal system," Krem explained as he explored the muscles of Trip's upper back. "Apparently it has the same effect on yours," he continued while looking up at Archer.  
  
Trip groaned loudly as Krem manipulated a particularly tender muscle.  
  
"I coulda.tol' ya that," he gasped weakly, and Archer noticed with some alarm that Trip had begun slurring his words.  
  
"Just try to stay calm, Trip," he responded. "We're going to give you something to help."  
  
Trip's reply was to issue another groan. He then clumsily pushed his head further into the dusty floor of the hut in an attempt to escape from the overwhelming hurt in his back. The pain really was excruciating, and respite from it had been rare in the past hour. In an unfocused thought, it occurred to him that he might be willing to accept death if only the incessant pain would stop.  
  
In consideration to the sick man, Krem lowered his voice as he further explained Trip's illness to the Captain and T'Pol.  
  
"Untreated, his joints will be attacked next and when that happens his breathing will become compromised as his ribs become inflexible. Death follows soon after, but overall the effects of the poison are hard to watch and even harder to experience."  
  
"Coulda..tol' ya.that, too," Trip rasped. "I can hear.what you're sayin'.ya know. Nothin'.wrong with.my ears."  
  
"Trip, please, just rest and let us try to figure this out," Archer responded gently while carefully hiding his exasperation.  
  
"It ain't exactly easy to rest, Captain!" Trip said with energy that surprised Archer. But it was ill-spent energy from depleted stores, and Trip visibly wilted after his outburst. "It's just.ah..damn.this hurts, Cap'n."  
  
"A minute more, and I'll give you the tonic," Krem said gently. "I just need to be sure of the extent of the damage to your system." With the end of his statement, the little alien probed a muscle in Trip's right leg. The pain was exquisite, and Trip almost lost awareness with it. His vision blurred sickenly, and he closed his eyes, all the while welcoming the oblivion of unconsciousness.  
  
But that reprieve did not last long, and as hearing and eyesight slowly returned he found himself focusing on the voices around him.  
  
"He has had other symptoms," T'Pol was saying impassively.  
  
Trip felt more than saw Krem's head move up in alarm.  
  
"What other symptoms?" Krem asked.  
  
"His heart rate and breathing have been erratic, and he has been running a high fever," T'Pol stated simply. "He vomited once as well."  
  
Trip re-experienced the embarrassment of that particular side effect, and then consciously noted the nausea that had been continuing to build during their time in the Renkan city. He had been naively dismissing it and now miserably hoped that he could keep his stomach contents where they normally resided. But he had the unfortunate impression that this was a futile hope.  
  
"These are not normal side-effects of this particular poison, Captain," Krem responded. "I'm not sure if the tonic will affect him in the same way as it does my people. There may be unforeseeable consequences." Archer put his head in his hands as he considered the options. He was desperately unsure, and this was not a feeling to which he was accustomed. If he were the one who had been poisoned, he knew that the choice would be an easier one. But he wasn't the one in danger, and indecision plagued him.  
  
"Cap'n," Trip unexpectedly offered. "I'm dead.if I don't.take it. Might.." Trip was interrupted as he felt the nausea rise again. He took a deep breath and continued. "Might as well.try the stuff."  
  
Archer smiled and was secretly relieved to have the decision off his shoulders.  
  
"Okay, Trip," he said gently. "Okay."  
  
With T'Pol's help, Archer moved Trip onto his back and supported the engineer's head and spine so that Trip's head was positioned slightly above his chest. Trip somehow managed to stifle the screams that were his response to the devastating pain of movement, but in doing so he found that he had given the nausea a chance to overtake him.  
  
Archer nodded to Krem, who brought the bowl of the thick liquid to Trip's lips. The noxious smell of it overwhelmed the engineer, and Trip closed his eyes against it.  
  
"I need.a minute," he said breathlessly.  
  
"Okay, just stay calm," Archer soothed and nodded at Krem again. Fresh air replaced the ugly fumes that he had breathed in the moment before, and Trip was able to regain control over his rebelling stomach.  
  
"You ready to try now?" Archer asked, and Trip stiffly nodded in assent. Again the bowl was brought to his lips, and this time he gulped down as much of the stuff as he was able. He found swallowing difficult since in addition to the horribly pungent taste of the vile tonic, the muscles in his mouth would not respond in the way he directed them to. Consequently, much of the sticky liquid ran down his neck and over his uniform, and tears leaked from his eyes as he again felt the humiliation of his weakness.  
  
In a hurried and unexpected motion, T'Pol briskly wiped the tonic off of the Commander's face and neck with the arm of her uniform. Archer looked at her grimly and yet was overthrown by the Vulcan's ability to share in Trip's emotions.  
  
Trip looked at her gratefully, and Archer was further shocked to see the edges of T'Pol's lips curl up to give the illusion of a kindly smile. This simple act that he took for granted in others was one that his curiosity would force him to ask the emotionless T'Pol about later.  
  
"Now we wait," Krem announced. 


	11. Part XI

Hi, it's me. Okay, another short section, but it's all I can manage for now. I'm sorry that this took so long to happen.I've just been sick for a few weeks now, and I haven't been able to work on it. I hope you all enjoy this!!! Emrys  
  
P.S. Again, don't worry if it's been a while between posts. My real life tends to interfere with all my fun, and so often I have to take a long break in between posts. But I have this whole story worked out in my head, and I want it all written out and posted before I quit it!!!  
  
P.P.S. I know NOTHING about Starfleet communicator frequencies.so don't flame me for it!!! Thanks!  
  
Disclaimer: See previous installments. ***  
  
Archer's light doze was interrupted by a hushed query from T'Pol.  
  
"Krem, where did you find the ingredients for Commander Tucker's tonic?"  
  
Although they had been resting for only a few minutes, the Captain's curiosity was well enough peaked for him to be able to pull himself away from exhaustion. T'Pol's question was a good one, and it probably should have been asked before they had given the tonic to Trip. Hastily he looked down at the nearby engineer, but was not awarded by any improvement. Trip still held onto consciousness, but was too taken over by pain to interact with them effectively. Jonathan had the sudden urge to pat his friend supportively on the back, but was too afraid of hurting Trip to do so. Instead, surprised by the urgency with which he desired an answer to the Vulcan's question, he turned his attention to the little alien.  
  
Krem at first looked sheepishly at the two officers, but after a moment's hesitation he took a deep breath and straightened his spine in an affectation of pride.  
  
"I told you that I was not devious," he said to both officers, "but neither am I stupid. I had a small stockpile of simple technology and basic medicines that I brought to this planet with me. I wanted a change of pace, to be sure, but I didn't want my life to be too difficult. It's how I've managed to reach the position I have here in the Renkan society. They see me as some sort of high priest who can make magic and heal their sick ones," the little alien smiled broadly to show two great rows of crooked teeth. "These things have made my life on this planet quite pleasurable."  
  
Archer sensed T'Pol's disapproval in the change of her posture and placed his hand on her shoulder. Although he knew that she felt no emotion, he did not deny himself the human behavior of placation. Additionally, he felt the beginnings of a plan begin to stir in his mind, and he did not want to be distracted by the lecture he felt sure was about to issue forth from her mouth.  
  
"Krem?" he asked while trying to hold back his hope and excitement. "You wouldn't happen to have communicators and phase pistols in your collection, would you?"  
  
***  
  
Trip looked over to the other side of the hut where the Captain and T'Pol were discussing something with the alien. The Captain seemed excited, but Trip was having a difficult time understanding the conversation. He closed his eyes and briefly rested them, before opening them widely again and blinking several times to clear his sight. The results were a bit better, and after concentrating as well as he could in his condition, he began making sense of the discussion.  
  
"T'Pol, do you know what frequency that communicator was set to?" the Captain asked hurriedly.  
  
"I am uncertain," T'Pol replied. "The commander had adjusted the frequency prior to my continuing his work. We should attempt to ask him."  
  
Trip wasn't sure what T'Pol had said in reply since his vision had begun to swim again, and his mind was all covered in cobwebs. However, when all three pairs of eyes turned to him, he knew that a question was going to be posed to him. He breathed in as deeply as he could, and closed his eyes again in an attempt to promote what little stores of energy were left in him. He did not reopen them until he heard his name spoken directly above him.  
  
He managed to recognize the Captain's features from the blurry form in front of him, and he attempted a smile despite his doubt of its outcome.  
  
"Cap'n," he whispered in acknowledgement.  
  
"Trip, it's very important that you answer this question. Do you understand?"  
  
"I.Cap'n.what did you say?" Jonathan's voice sounded as if it were coming from the other end of a tin can telephone. Trip could barely make sense of it.  
  
Archer looked on in alarm, and then turned towards Krem.  
  
"What's happened to him?" he asked with real worry. "How could he have gotten so much worse in such little time?"  
  
Trip felt hands prodding his back again, but this time the pain was not as intense and he bore it easier than he had during Krem's initial inspection.  
  
"Actually, Captain, he's much better," Krem replied happily. "Unfortunately, I think some non-essential systems have been affected by the tonic."  
  
T'Pol looked on impassively and then nodded. "He does appear to be disoriented, Captain."  
  
Trip understood little of what was being said as the conversation continued to buzz above him. The sound of it made him feel a bit ill, and he closed his eyes against it. He had almost managed to fall asleep when the sudden jolt of a slap across his face brought him back to something resembling consciousness.  
  
Angered, he looked up to find the Captain eyeing him apologetically.  
  
"You hit me!" Trip spat out in a slur.  
  
"I'm sorry, Trip, but we need you conscious enough to answer a couple of questions. I need to know what frequency that alien communicator was set at before you adjusted it."  
  
"What? Why? I.I can't remember. Lemme sleep," Trip mumbled as his eyes began to droop again.  
  
"Commander if you go to sleep, I swear I'll hit you again!" Archer's voice was a whip-crack that cleared Trip's thoughts in an instant. He looked at Archer angrily, but made a great effort to hang onto focused thought.  
  
"What was the frequency, Trip?" Archer asked urgently.  
  
Trip took a moment to think back to the communicator, but it seemed as if he had made its adjustments an eternity ago. Slowly he recalled each painstaking movement as he had performed the alterations, and then suddenly revisited the surprise he had experienced when he had noted the weakness of the original frequency at which the machine had been set.  
  
"Epsilon," he breathed out.  
  
"Epsilon?" the Captain responded with his own surprise. "Trip, are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure," was Trip's bleary reply. "I switched it.ah.I think.changed it to.yes, changed to.gamma. Malcolm's never.gonna find us with gamma. Guaranteed. Stuck here."  
  
Archer smiled with newfound hope and turned towards Krem who nodded his head confidently. "Good, Trip. You did real good. You rest now, and don't worry. We're not going to be stuck here for long." 


	12. Author's Notedon't worry, I'm planning o...

Hi All. Just a very short note to let you know that I'm just getting over a long illness, and that's why there hasn't been an update in a while. But don't worry! I was just thinking about this fic yesterday, and I'm hoping to get back at it within the next few days.  
  
I also wanted to thank you all for the great feedback you continue to give me! It really spurs me on to get this next part up and at you!  
  
Sorry if this little message from me tricked you into thinking I've updated the fic, but it shouldn't be long!  
  
Take care all, Emrys 


	13. Yet another author's note

Alright! Alright!  
  
You all do have a point.I shouldn't leave our guy hanging. I've just really been on the outside of the Enterprise loop since I haven't been finding the plots all that interesting lately.makes me wish they'd hire some fanfiction writers.what do you all think? :)  
  
But, I will make an effort to pull out some of the eppy's that I videotaped from the first season, review them and remember what I enjoyed so much about the show last year, and then make an honest effort to update this fic. It is, after all, finished in my head, so why not do so for real, right?  
  
Give me a week to get my head on straight, and I'll try to have the next part up for you within the next couple of weeks (I work better with a deadline, anyway, so why not set one, right?). In fact, I will make an attempt at beginning the next chapter tomorrow since I should have some time at some point in the day.it being Saturday after all.  
  
Finally, I'm sorry for leaving so many people hanging for so long. I have no real excuse except that, like I said, I've lost my interest for Enterprise, and it makes it difficult to be motivated to write the fic..but I will get it done!  
  
:)  
  
Thanks a lot for all of your great reviews!!!!  
  
Emrys 


	14. Part XII

Hey Everyone.  
  
Okay, as promised, here is the next part of Following Orders!! Yea! Personally, I can't believe I got it done! I wanted to thank you guys for your patience and to apologize yet again for my shameful laziness. I also want to thank GhostWriter25 and Braycat for their great Trip angst fics, because without them, I never would have been able to get back into the swing of things! I'm also happy to say that last week's episode (Cogenitor) was terrific, and it also went a long way to moving me along!!  
  
I hope you enjoy this next part (I think I'm a little rusty, so let me know what you think, okay?), and I'm setting a deadline of another two to two and a half weeks to get the next part out to you.  
  
Thanks all!  
  
Emrys  
  
Disclaimer: See previous installments.  
  
Following Orders Part XII  
  
Trip was aware of very little that went on around him, and of that he comprehended even less. His world had narrowed down to a tightrope's edge of pain and disorientation that made his head swim with disjointed and disturbing images. The people that stood over him appeared as the blurry and overstretched reflections that one sees in funhouse mirrors, and somewhere outside of his head someone was shrieking loudly. He fervently wished that they would stop because the sound was beginning to penetrate into the nether reaches of his mind, and it was disturbing to him.  
  
But the screaming did not end until something vile and pungent was forced down his throat, and he had the outrageous but suddenly coherent thought that he had been the one who had made those awful noises. He choked on the thick liquid that had quieted his own screams and felt his body shake with laughter despite the incongruity between this response and his current condition. But he closed his eyes anyway, and let the odd emotional response occur. He supposed that it was possible that he was going insane, but he didn't much mind and that realization made the misplaced laughter take him over and force a stream of tears to squeeze from between his closed lids.  
  
***  
  
He must have lost consciousness, because awareness came back to him in dizzying, sudden clarity. He felt hands wiping away the sweat, tears and grime that coated his face and only had to squint slightly to see that it was T'Pol.  
  
"Commander?" the Vulcan asked in what could almost be interpreted as a tentative tone of voice.  
  
"Yeah," Trip responded and was both shocked and frightened by the weakness that he experienced from simply giving voice to that one word. Yet, from some unknown source of energy within himself, he managed a question. "What's goin' on?"  
  
"Are you well?" T'Pol asked, and Trip felt a moment's irritation as he realized that she had ignored his question, but he chose to answer hers anyway.  
  
"Don't think so," he said, shakily. "Everythin' . hurts, and I can . barely move. And there's a . bitter .taste in my mouth," he added as nausea overtook him again.  
  
T'Pol continued to wipe Trip's face, and then gently lifted his right arm to continue the process with his fingers and hand. Trip attempted not to scream at the agony the gentle movement caused him, but he could not keep from groaning in response.  
  
"I apologize Commander, but I have been informed that if no permanent damage is to occur to your musculature, you must be continuously massaged. The bitter taste in your mouth originates from a second dose of an alien remedy that should help ease some of the symptoms of the poison. Unfortunately, it appears as if the antidote does not work as well on human physiology as it does on that of other species."  
  
Trip was unable to say anything further for a moment, and he forced himself to look to his surroundings in order to distract himself from the pain.  
  
"Breathe, Commander Tucker," T'Pol directed. "I believe it will help you through the pain."  
  
Trip turned his gaze towards her in momentary acknowledgement, but was slow to follow her suggestion. Something wasn't quite right, and he couldn't identify it. Forcing himself to breathe, he looked around again and noticed various, hard-to-see humanoids milling around the shack-like structure in which he was currently lying. Additionally, a familiar- looking, big-eared and sharp-toothed little alien lurked around the edges of his field-of-vision.  
  
"Who're they?" he managed to gasp out in query to T'Pol.  
  
"The smaller alien is Krem, one of the Ferengi who tried to take over Enterprise a few months ago."  
  
Trip sorted through his memories, and managed to pick out one in which he had skulked around in his underwear for hours on end and grimaced in remembered embarrassment. Better to leave that particular memory in the past.  
  
"The others," T'Pol continued "Are the Renkans, the native inhabitants of this planet."  
  
Trip took a closer look at the tall aliens, and his heart began to thud heavily in his chest. His face grew flushed and visibly expressed his distress.  
  
"Commander, calm yourself," T'Pol commanded as she began to wipe his face down again.  
  
"T'Pol . what in HELL is going on?" In his anxiety, Trip almost managed a genuine shout.  
  
"Commander, you must calm down," T'Pol repeated but was interrupted by the engineer's continued outburst.  
  
"T'Pol, these people . these people are not wealthy! What is going on?! There is no map, is there?! There's nothing! What is going on?!" Trip's breathing became increasingly irregular as his rambling became weaker, and dizziness overwhelmed him once more.  
  
"You should not worry, Commander. The Captain has a plan," he heard T'Pol reply in the instant before he lost consciousness again.  
  
***  
  
Up until this point, the plan had been working perfectly. Using one of Krem's hoarded communicators, he had managed to contact the greedy misers who had gotten them all into this horrendous mess and convince them that he had the map in his possession. And it had not taken a lie to persuade them that his engineer was too ill to be transported up to the ship, or that T'Pol should stay on the planet's surface to care for the sick man.  
  
He knew it would be a tricky piece of work to overcome the disorientation of the transporter and start shooting away with the single phaser that Krem had thought to bring with him to the planet, but he had no choice in the matter. All he had working for him was the element of surprise, and so he planned a spectacular display of fancy shooting. Afterwards, when all of the materialistic aliens were hopefully lying stunned on the deck of their ship, Archer had expected to retrieve the antidote to the poison coursing through Trip's body and to find some way to return to the planet's surface.  
  
It was definitely a risky strategy, but by placing his finger on the stun button of the phaser he had hidden behind his back, he was able to start firing as soon as he felt his feet solidly placed on the deck of the alien ship. In fact he had succeeded in stunning all three Ferengi, before the unthinkable had occurred.  
  
Archer had only a moment to feel exalted at the unlikely success of his last-chance rescue attempt when his sight caught a flash as the dim light from the ship's ceiling reflected off a clear and fragile looking vial. Too late, Enterprise's Captain recognized the precious antidote vial loosely grasped in the falling alien leader's weakening hands. And as time slowed to a painful crawl and as Jonathan looked on helplessly, it fell to the ground and shattered.  
  
When the antidote splattered over the deck and walls, Archer felt his own stance weakening as the full consequences of his now obviously brash actions became clear to him.  
  
He had just killed his closest friend. 


	15. Part XIII

Hi Everyone,  
  
I'm sorry for missing my 2 1/2 week deadline, but I was trying to work out a couple of kinks to the story. Nothing big, but the plot is progressing, and I need to make sure I'm not writing myself into a corner. This is sort of an interlude; almost a character study, actually. But I did leave you, well, a present at the end.some small bit of action. I hope you like this, and if I've made any mistakes (which I probably have.character studies can be a little dangerous in this respect, you know), please forgive me.and let me know (nicely, please.human ego at work here). :)  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Emrys  
  
P.S. Thanks for all of the feedback! I needed it! And Daria.you better write the next part of your fic soon! I'm going crazy with anticipation! :) By the way, if anyone hasn't read Daria's fic "Loss" you might want to check it out!  
  
Following Orders Part XIII  
  
Disclaimer: See previous installments.  
  
After the Commander had lapsed back to unconsciousness, T'Pol redoubled her efforts to retard any permanent damage to the man's body by vigorously massaging his upper torso. Although the stimulation to the muscle had to be done (and done properly, according to Krem), the Vulcan found it difficult to do so when the engineer was conscious. It was obvious that the therapy caused him a great deal of pain, and despite all the logic to the contrary, T'Pol had found herself easing the pressure behind her fingers in order to quiet the Commander's stifled cries that were the response to her ministrations.  
  
While she worked, and not for the first time, T'Pol considered the ineffectiveness that often resulted from the Vulcan logic she tried to use in her dealings with these humans. If she, herself, had been human, she might have been amused by the irony of her situation. On Vulcan, she was looked upon as a young and occasionally rebellious individual, and although her commission in the High Command had been respectfully and properly earned, many had had doubts about her abilities to mute her inherently oppositional behavior well enough to succeed in her chosen field.  
  
But despite the fact that T'Pol was, admittedly, a bit of an upstart, she was highly intelligent, clever, and visionary enough to know how to obtain her goals. And what those were and had been for as long as she could remember, were to discover new life forms, to interact with them, and to work with them towards some common goal of appreciation and understanding. These were secret desires which she carefully sublimated according to the rules that her people found necessary to implement, but nonetheless, they were desires that she remembered and treasured in her own, emotionless Vulcan way.  
  
In fact, both Commander Tucker and Captain Archer would have been shocked to discover that far beneath the many layers of Vulcan logic and ritual control beat a heart as strongly passionate as their own.  
  
She had striven for accomplishment in her dealings with the humans, because it had been readily clear to her that they were a species driven by their curiosity and thus destined for exploration. The idea of observing another life form as they discovered the wonders of space for the first time mesmerized her, and drove her to seek out the position of Vulcan advisor. She believed herself to be the logical choice, since she had experienced some success living on the human planet and since her unique personality allowed her the opportunity to manage a life-style that could possibly include human emotion. The High Command had also agreed that she was the logical choice for the position since her resilience was acceptably suitable for dealing with the unpredictable emotions of the humans.  
  
And thus she had earned her position on Enterprise where the irony of her situation had first become apparent to her.  
  
For a Vulcan who had thought that she was an open-minded and an occasionally expressive individual, T'Pol suddenly found herself considered as impossibly logical and intolerably unemotional. And although her logic dictated that she not be influenced by the thoughts of the humans, intermittently she would find herself meditating just a bit longer in order to maintain that structured line of thinking.  
  
Suddenly, T'Pol was driven away from her thoughts as the muscle on which she was working suddenly seized violently, and the Commander yelled out even in unconsciousness. She gently stroked back his hair with one hand in a gesture she knew from experience would comfort him. It was at this time that she was struck by a hazardous thought.  
  
She wanted the Commander to live, and wanting was a dangerous thing for a Vulcan. It was one thing to keep hidden a secret yet logical goal for her life's work, but something completely different when wanting was directed towards an illogical end. And all logic dictated that the Commander would die, in fact should have died already.  
  
But it was the fact that, according to her rules of logic, he should have already died that made the wanting assert itself more.  
  
She had learned that humans could be driven by emotions, and the Commander defied logic on a consistent basis, was in fact doing so now despite the pain that it caused him. Yet he was still alive, which made her want to hope, and that want was an impossibility for her.  
  
As T'Pol became confused by her thoughts, she recognized her need to meditate and wondered when the Captain would return so that she could perform an abbreviated ritual. Her thoughts were drawn to him, and she considered the chances that his plan would reach success. She had serious doubts regarding this success, since the variables against it happening were so many. She believed that he had fair opportunity for smuggling the phase pistol aboard the alien ship since the creatures were so obviously eager to obtain the map. This eagerness would offer the prospect that they would transport the Captain aboard without scanning him for weapons, but as far as the rest of the plan was concerned, T'Pol did not believe that the element of surprise could possibly counteract all of the other factors working against success. She had tried to explain her thoughts to the Captain, but like so many other times, he had told her that he had to try and then had left her alone to tend the Commander.  
  
With these thoughts, her need to meditate strengthened, but T'Pol outwardly displayed this need only by lifting her eyebrow slightly and continuing to do the logical thing. She attempted to clear her mind as the muscles in the Commander's back trembled violently beneath the workings of her hands.  
  
She had almost managed to find a calmness similar to the one she reached after meditation when Krem ran into the hut with a frantic air about him.  
  
"You must leave, now!" he whispered to her harshly, and as he did so she felt the need to meditate reassert itself. 


	16. Part XIV

NOTE: Based on a review, and on my own dissatisfaction with elements of this chapter, I've changed it just a little. Hope it's a bit better. Thanks Daria! Emrys  
  
Hey Everybody.. I'm back! Here's the next part, and.just a warning for you all.lots of Trip "torture" here.sorry.but the poison has to progress after all, doesn't it? I also haven't forgotten about the Captain up there in the Ferengi ship.just in case you were wondering.but we'll see what he's doing in the next chapter.  
  
I made the mistake of writing this on a weeknight when I'm absolutely exhausted.not the ideal situation, so I hope this all makes sense. Somehow I think that when I reread this tomorrow, I'm not going to be very happy with it.but, well, I'm sure you all will let me know.  
  
I'll try to get the next part up soon!  
  
Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews.they help me out so much!  
  
Emrys  
  
P.S. Daria!!! I'm dying for the next part of your fic!!!  
  
Following Orders Part XIV  
  
Disclaimer: See previous installments.  
  
The little alien was small, but much faster than T'Pol could anticipate, and before she could even register the movement, Krem was pressing what looked to be a rudimentary hypospray against the Commander's throat. When she saw her crewmate almost immediately return to consciousness after the contents of the hypospray had been dispensed, T'Pol felt the first inklings of anger and frustration threaten to break through her fragile control.  
  
"What are you doing?" T'Pol asked Krem carefully.  
  
Krem ignored her question and somehow managed to pull the Commander to a sitting position despite the discrepancy in their sizes. When T'Pol realized that she was getting no response, she put a gentle, but strong hand on the engineer's shoulder and successfully kept the little alien from making any more progress. She was about to ask her question again, but the Commander beat her to it.  
  
"Ahhh, damn....what is going on?" Trip managed to gasp out through clenched teeth.  
  
T'Pol looked the ill man over and noted his graying pallor and hitched breathing. She turned and stared pointedly at Krem, and the alien did not require additional words to understand that he would get no further in his task of moving either officer until the questions were answered.  
  
Krem sighed deeply and impatiently before offering a hurried explanation.  
  
"The Renkans are a highly superstitious species. It took six months before I could convince them that I was of no harm to them, and then another three before they understood that I was actually trying to help them with the technology I brought with me."  
  
T'Pol allowed herself to express her disapproval by arching one eyebrow, but said nothing. She nodded at Krem to indicate that she wished him to continue.  
  
"Physically, I'm small which keeps me from looking too dangerous. Additionally, my cousins and other acquaintances did much to teach me how to act subordinately, and these qualities helped me win over the Renkans. However, you and your companions have alarmed them with your obviously strong physical attributes, and I might add, your loud and angry voices.  
  
"This one in particular," Krem continued and pointed to Trip "frightens them, since they rarely fall ill and believe his sickness is a portent of bad luck to come."  
  
"This....just figures," Trip growled sarcastically between strained breaths. "We just can't...catch a break...can we?"  
  
"Don't exert yourself, Commander," T'Pol replied. "What are the Renkans planning to do?" she then asked Krem.  
  
"Well that's why you need to get out of the village," Krem explained with exasperation clear in his tone. "I've been arguing with them ever since you've come here, and I've managed to convince them that you, Sub- Commander, being healthy and all are of no threat to them. However, I haven't been able to sway them from their belief that Commander Tucker is simply a sick man who is perfectly harmless to them. They keep insisting that he is a bad omen that needs to be destroyed and so if you want to keep that from happening, you need to leave. Now! They'll be here any moment. Listen to me! I would not have used the stimulant to wake the Commander if this were not urgent. It's dangerous to him, and I have so little of it left. But you must leave now!"  
  
"I see the..logic behind..all this now," Trip said while looking intently at T'Pol.  
  
T'Pol had no doubt that the Commander was attempting to make a joke, but she chose to ignore it.  
  
"Can you walk at all, Commander?" she asked calmly.  
  
"Prob'ly not, darlin'. But...let's give it..aaahh...the old..college try."  
  
***  
The stimulant helped, but not much. Their progress was slow as Trip stumbled along barely conscious and T'Pol half-dragged, half-carried him through the forest. After a short discussion, the two had decided to head back towards the area where they had left the primitive transmitter that Trip had rigged. They had both agreed that, with the Captain still onboard the alien ship, returning to the transmitter made sense and was where the Captain would most likely search for them if he somehow managed to return to the surface. Additionally, the transmitter was placed in an area relatively far away from the Renkan village, and T'Pol believed the clearing to possess some minimal safety for them.  
But first they had to trek through a large expanse of the forest, and T'Pol doubted that the Commander could go much further in his attempt to avoid the logical end that was his demise. She could not remember ever seeing a living creature look so desperately ill, and she could not understand how he held onto any strands of consciousness. His fever had spiked again, and he lapsed into moments of delirium which would suddenly clear and were replaced by severe pain that was all too easily seen behind his eyes despite the attempts he made to hide the agony behind seemingly light-hearted joking. At the beginning of their slow flight through these woods, T'Pol found the Commander's jokes tedious and out of place. She could not comprehend why the engineer insisted on making light of their serious situation. But after a seemingly interminable amount of labored stumbling, she had come to understand that the Commander was only trying to ease his fears, and she had decided to let him have his fun even though each joke gave her barely-controlled emotions unwanted strength.  
In fact, after a little more time, she was actually beginning to respect the cleverness of each joke regardless of the illogical reason for their use. Even considering the effects of the stimulant that Krem had injected into his system, the Commander was holding out better than anyone could have expected, and they had actually made some progress towards their destination. But she estimated another three miles or so before they would reach the clearing that held the transmitter, and her logical mind kept insisting that the man would not be able to reach their objective.  
She was considering the argument that had been posed to her by several members of Enterprise that logic could lead to a dangerous fatalism, when the Commander's breathing became so labored that he stopped abruptly and looked at her with clear panic.  
"I can't...my..breath," he tried to choke out over the thick wheezing that threatened to overtake him.  
T'Pol quickly laid him down off the pathway they were on, and studied him carefully.  
"Commander, try to calm down. Steady your breathing," she instructed as she checked his pulse. His heart was racing, but it was not arresting as she had feared.  
"Can't..breathe," Trip whispered in response, and T'Pol saw that his panic was threatening to overwhelm him.  
"Commander Tucker!" she said in a sharp tone that snatched his attention well enough to distract him momentarily from his distress. "Calm yourself," she added as she felt along his ribcage. "The muscles in your upper torso have seized violently, and you are unable to expand your chest cavity sufficiently to take in a reasonable amount of air. I will attempt to relax the muscles by massaging them, but you must also help yourself by remaining calm."  
Unable to respond and already seeing black sparks flash across his vision, Trip managed to nod even though he was doubtful that remaining calm would have any significant positive effect. He had a miserable moment when he suddenly realized for the first time that he actually could die on this horrible planet, and he would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but he didn't have the breath to do so. Then T'Pol started massaging the overstrained and taut muscles that lay over his ribcage, and all he could be conscious of was the pain in his chest that he could not even express by screaming. 


End file.
